Forgiven
by Sam.J.Eller
Summary: Dean hurts Sam and must deal with his guilt as he takes care of his little brother. Worried/Hurt/Sam and Caring/Guilty/Dean. Could be seen as post 10x09, but fits in prior to that as well.


Note: I was snowed in at the airport. My phone was dead and the wifi was shotty, so what did I do? I put in my earbuds, cranked up my music, and wrote this story on the Notes app on my ipod. Who knew that there's no word limit on that thing? I kept waiting for it to tell me I had exceeded the limit, but 4,000 plus words later I had a story written and was finally out of the airport.

Setting: Dean has the Mark of Cain, takes place Post-Demon Dean. Essentially anytime after 10x04, but fits best after 10x09.

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><p>There were good days and bad days.<p>

On the good days the mark on my arm was nothing more than a slightly irritating itch.

I could ignore it and everything was almost normal, well as normal as our lives could be anyways.

On the good days I would hang around the bunker, make some damn good food (if I do say so myself), and drag Sammy away from research long enough to hang out and watch a movie or something.

Those were the good days.

On the bad days the mark burned so badly it felt as though my arm was on fire.

On the bad days there was no possibility of ignoring the new addition to my body. I would spend all my time agitated, the slightest noise or irritation able to set me off. The rage would simmer for hour after hour with no way to push it aside or shove it down.

On those days Sammy would stay silent and I would try to stay in my room to avoid throwing a fit and destroying the entire bunker.

There were good day and bad days.

Today was a bad day.

Right from the beginning when I gasped awake after one of the more violent nightmares I've been having lately, I knew it was going to be a bad day.

Before I even got out of bed I could feel the anger rising to the surface.

It was all I could do to keep from grabbing one of the weapons hanging on my wall and going to town on the furniture. I clenched my fist, hoping to ease the burn in my forearm, but I knew nothing would help. The only thing that ever eased the burn was violence and death. And neither of those were an option right now. Sam had benched us from hunts until we dealt with the mark. I argued with him of course, informing him that we might never get this thing out of my skin, but Sam wouldn't hear it, the little shit just shook his head dismissively and adamantly stated that we would find a cure, and we'd find it soon.

Though I planned to spend the day locked in my room, the need to piss had me stomping across the hall to the bathroom, slamming the door harder than necessary once I got there.

I heard Sam walk down the hall while I was taking care of business, and I could tell he was making an effort to tread lightly.

A pang of guilt hit me. This poor kid always walking on egg-shells around me, I cursed myself for not having better self-control. But the mark didn't care about my guilt and regret, it flared, quickly raising my anger and diminishing any sense of sympathy.

Exiting the bathroom I heard noises coming from the kitchen, a loud clatter catching my attention as well as upping my level of agitation.

I arrived at the kitchen in time to see Sam picking a stack of pot lids up off the floor.

"What the hell did you do?" I barked out in an accusing tone that sounded almost unfamiliar even to my own ears.

"Knocked some stuff over." Sam answered simply, turning back towards the stovetop where I could smell eggs and bacon cooking.

"You've always been a klutz." I said, the comment that had often been made in jest coming out much harsher than normal.

Sam just shrugged.

I rolled my eyes at the brat's lack of response as I waited impatiently for the coffee he had started to be ready.

"Breakfast is almost ready." My brother informed me.

"It'd be nice if the damn coffee would finish." I growled, my patience non-existent.

"It should be done soon." Sam stated, his calm tone pissing me off as he began dishing the food onto two plates.

"Fuck it." I snapped, slamming my hand down on the counter next to the slow-motion coffee maker and the stomping over to the shelf with the liquor, pulling down a bottle of whiskey, popping it open, and taking a long gulp before making my way back over to the stove to grab a glass.

"Dean." The voice was soft, but sure, and I turned, reacting instinctively, the way I always had when my little brother calls my name.

"What?" I snapped, my body tense and anger rising, the mark burning more intensely.

"It's a little early for that, don't you think."

I shook my head and turned, reaching into the cupboard.

"Dean" The feather light touch on my shoulder did nothing to ease the growing rage.

"It's barely eight in the morning."

"What's you point Sam?" I ground out, glaring at the brat out of the corner of my eyes.

"I just don't think that's a good idea...especially not right now, when you're so..."

"When I'm so what?" I challenged, the hateful tone rolling off my tongue placing a bitter taste in my mouth.

Sam glanced down for a moment, unsure.

"I just think that drinking might make it harder for you to stay in control." He states, eyes coming back up to meet mine.

Who the fuck does this punk think he is? Telling me what I can and cannot do or what I can and cannot handle.

"What the hell do you know Sam. I'll drink if I damn well want to." I sneered grabbing for a glass.

The younger man grabbed for my wrist, to stop me, and the movement made the mark seer, my rage finally bubbling over.

Without thought, or even time to blink, I wrenched my hand from my brother's grasp and took a hard swing right at his face.

Sam's head snapped back as my fist connected with his mouth. His long body was knocked off balance and the kid went down, attempting to catch himself on the stovetop, before crying out and crashing to the ground.

The fury was still flowing through my veins, the mark not yet satisfied as I threw the full bottle of whiskey at Sam. He was able to duck out of the way seconds before it would have hit him, instead it shattered less than an inch above his head.

My fists clenched as I glared around the room, the all-encompassing anger desperate to be released, and then I looked down at my brother.

And just like that, the hate and violence disappeared. The fire in my arm still present, but forgotten as I stared at the scene before me.

Sam was crumpled on the floor, his long body curled up, and hair askew. He was surrounded by shards of glass, whiskey dampened his hair and dripped down his face. My brother had blood streaming over his chin and down his neck from a badly split lip, his face lined with pain and concern as he stared up at me, his wide puppy-dog eyes glistening with unshed tears and hurt.

The realization of what I had just done hit me like a freight train, causing my body to physically react. My legs gave out and I ended up kneeling on the floor in front of my little brother.

"Oh god Sammy...what have I done." I whispered, my voice shaking almost as much as my hands when I slowly reached towards him.

Sam didn't flinch away like I expected him to, but he remained still as he watched me.

My hands hovered over my brother's bony knees. I was terrified any contact would cause the kid to flinch or pull away...and I didn't know if I could handle seeing that. I didn't think I could ever take my little brother being afraid of me.

As though Sam sensed my internal fear, he relaxed, uncurling his body, letting his long legs fall to stretch out in front of him, his feet brushing against my legs on either side.

I tried not to dwell on the shock of my little brother's ability to trust as he allowed me to move closer to him.

Working on auto-pilot I stood to grab a towel off the counter top, balled it up and held it to the kid's wounded lip.

Sam flinched a little as I pressed the towel against his mouth in an attempt to soak up the gushing blood.

I looked at my kid brother's face, avoiding his eyes, not ready for the emotion I knew would be there. I used the sleeve of my plaid shirt to wipe the whiskey off Sam's face. Feelings of self-loathing washing over me as I began to pick glass from my little brother's hair. The glass that was all over him because of me...because if he hadn't ducked this same glass would be imbedded in his skin.

"Dean, it's not—

"Don't. Just don't." I said, nearly pleading for my little brother not to go to my defense, because I didn't deserve that.

Sam fell quiet, sitting calm and patient as I continued to pull shards of glass from his ridiculously long hair.

Once most of it seemed to be out I brought my attention back to Sam's lip.

I pulled the towel back,

"Shit." I cursed quietly.

The blood wasn't clotting at all, the lip split all the way through.

"This is probably going to need stitches." I informed my little brother regretfully.

Sam nodded, as if that was okay, as if any of this was even remotely okay.

"You uuh...you want to go to the hospital?" I asked, because I wasn't sure the hurting young man would want or trust me to administer medical care after I was the one to cause the injury.

"No, It' oka-

"Sam." I said sternly, needing honesty.

"Really Dean, I want you to do it."

God this kid. Trusting me look after him so soon after what I did. That and Sam really hated hospitals.

I folded the towel over, placing a less bloody part against his lip.

I had hit Sam before, we had gone at it more than once in our life as brothers, but I had always pulled the punches, at least a bit, to keep from doing any serious damage.

I hadn't pulled the punch this time, not even a little, that's why Sam had gone down, and that's why his lip was ripped open.

"You hurt anywhere else?" I croaked, as I swept my gaze over the kid, still avoiding those damn eyes.

"Yeah." Sam whispered, bring up the hand that had been resting on his thigh and turning it over, palm up. I looked down, eyes going wide as the sight of blistering skin.

"I uh... I put it on the burner when I tried to get my balance." Sam explained nervously.

I vaguely recalled the cry of pain my brother released when he attempted to catch himself against the stove...after I decked him.

"Here, hold this." I instructed, taking Sam's uninjured hand and placing it against the towel being held to his mouth.

I shoved my growing self-hatred to the side for now.

Sammy was priority number one.

I cradled my brother's hand, his long bony fingers tumbling in pain as I examined the burns. I lightly placed the injured appendage back down on my brother's leg and stood up.

I left the room, trying to recall where the first aid kit had ended up, making my way the bathroom.

I grabbed the kit, checking to be sure everything I needed was still inside and hastily traveled back to the kitchen. I got there just in time to see Sam struggling to get to his feet, wavering as he made it up into a squatted position.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing?" I questioned, rushing over to help ease the kid back against the cupboard before he face-planted on the floor.

My little brother looked up at me, surprise clear on his face as I helped him back into a seated position.

I realized that he was surprised I had returned. He had thought that I just left him there. I could easily see why the kid would assume that, but it still hurt.

"Just went to get the med-kit Sammy." I informed him softly, grabbing and soaking another towel and then kneeling back down in front of the injured man.

The burned skin was too sensitive form me to touch directly with the towel, so instead I wrung it out, letting the water drip steadily onto the blistered skin.

I didn't miss Sam's wince as the wetness came in contact with his palm.

"Just got to clean it out before we put the cream on." I told him, my brother nodded knowingly.

I took the clean towel and dabbed carefully at his hand, drying it off.

"How's your lip?" I asked, hoping to distract the kid from the pain I knew I was causing.

"Still bleeding." He sighed.

I nodded, because I expected as much.

"This going to sting." I warned, grabbing the burn cream and removing the lid.

Sam eyed the ointment wearily for a moment before reluctantly nodding his consent.

I used a feather light touch to spread the cream, unable to block out my little brother's gasp, fingers twitching as he breathed slowly through the pain.

Once all the burnt skin was coded with the glistening substance I pulled the gauze from the kit and began to wrap it around the damaged appendage.

I felt Sam's eyes on me as I bandaged his hand and I refused to look back at them, knowing what I would see, a whole shit-load of forgiveness that I didn't deserve.

"We are going to have to keep an eye on this. We'll put more cream on it tonight."

Sam nodded in understanding.

Once I was done with his hands, I returned my attention to my little brother's lip.

"Let me take a look." I said, motioning for Sam to pull the towel away from the injury.

It was still bleeding,

"Damnit." I swore, seeing all the blood that soaked through the fabric and was still streaming down the kid's face.

"It's alright Dean." He said softly, his words referring to more than just his torn lip.

"No, it's not Sam. Everything is pretty fucking far from alright." I declared, pulling out the supplies to start stitching.

The younger man looked as though he was about to make an argument, but I stopped him.

"I can't stitch you up if your mouth is flapping." I informed my brother.

Sam grunted in agreement and obediently shut-up.

His lip was torn, and though it was a small surface area, it was cut all the way through.

Just looking at the injury, I knew this was going to hurt like a bitch.

I tried to stitch it quickly, knowing that it'd be painful, but it took longer than I thought because I wanted the stitches to be small and neat so that the wound wouldn't leave a scar. Sam didn't need a permanent reminder on his face of what I did to him, and I sure as hell didn't want to see the evidence of the hurt I caused every time I looked at my little brother.

Sam breathed through his nose, his body tense in pain as his good hand held on to the bottom of my shirt, fingers clenching around it.

"Almost done buddy." I soothed when I could tell the kid was having a difficult time managing.

I wiped at a tear just as it was trailing down Sam's face, making no comment as I gently swiped a second one away with my knuckle.

"Last one Sammy." I promised with a whisper

His hand gripped tighter to my shirt in response.

I quickly tied off the last stitch, nodding in satisfaction at the job I had done, glad I could do at least one bloody thing right.

I passed off on the idea of trying to bandage the cut, knowing it would either cause further pain or discomfort.

"You're going to have to be careful not to bite down on it." I said, packing away the supplies.

Luckily the stitches were on Sam's top lip so they'd be relatively safe from his nervous habit of always chewing on the bottom one.

"How's the pain?" I asked, wondering what sort of pain killers we would be needing, over-the-counter or hospital-brand.

"Fine." He lied, moving his mouth as minimally as possible.

"Sam." I said in my no-bullshit-tone, giving the kid the best parental look I could muster.

"Lip is soar, headache, and...my hand is on fire." My brother finished with a mumble.

"You've qualified for some of the good drugs kiddo." I announced with a casual smirk, as though guilt wasn't eating me alive at the list of his injuries...each one of which I was responsible for.

"Nah, just give me some Advil or something." Sam requested.

"That's not going to do much for you man. I got some T3's here, that'll be way better." I told him, pulling the bottle out and shaking it to judge how full it was.

"They make me tired." My brother stated, as though that were meant to clear everything up.

"Yeah, so you catch a fee z's, I'm not seeing the issue here dude."

Sam looked away, chewing on his bottom lip, I couldn't help but smirk; this kid and his habits.

"I can't sleep right now Dean."

"Why not? Nightmares?" I asked quietly, because they seemed to be a common thing, especially lately. He had them after Kevin, then I noticed them start up again after I became...human...not really sure what they are about now, because Sam doesn't wonder into my room like he used to, but they probably have something to do with me being a douchebag demon.

"No, it's not that."

"Then what is it? Why is sleep not an option?"

"I have research to do. I can't stop, not now." The kid insisted, panic rising in his voice.

"You can take a day off Sam." I sighed.

"No! I can't!" My brother's tone urgent as his desperate eyes stared into mine.

"Why?" I asked, irritation rising as I continued to try to ignore the searing pain in my forearm.

"Cause it's getting worse Dean." The emotional rasp in the kid's voice had me shoving the agitation and anger down, as far down as I possibly could.

Sam was worried about me, he was scared for me, and he was withstanding abuse and pain to help me. To find a cure for me. The fucking moron who hurt him.

"I know." I admitted softly, because my little brother deserved the truth.

"But it can wait one more day." I declared in complete confidence.

"No De-

"Yes Sam, You're in pain. Take today, get some rest and then tomorrow when you're feeling better, we will sit down and research the hell out of everything if you want." I promised sincerely.

Sam looked skeptical.

"Listen man, I am just as eager to get rid of the mark as you are, probably more so." I added darkly as I stared at the pain lines creasing my younger brother's face.

"But you aren't going to be any help like this." I reasoned.

Sam chewed his lip in thought.

"Sammy I promise you, we will buckle down on this tomorrow."

My little brother searched my eyes and I let him, knowing he was looking for honesty.

After a moment the young man reluctantly nodded.

"Alright." Sam sighed tiredly.

"That's my boy." I replied automatically, pausing for a moment, realizing how good it felt to say that. A smile lit Sam's face, and my heart clenched.

God I love this kid.

I climbed to a stand, having to wait for the long fingers to release my shirt before I could move away.

I grabbed a glass, filling it with water and dumping two pills into my hand, presenting them to my brother.

"Thanks." Sam said, accepting the meds and chasing them down with the water.

I went to take back the empty glass, but before I could pull it away, thin fingers traced the scar on my arm.

"Does it burn? Like this?" Sam asked nodding his head towards his wrapped up hand.

"Not that much." I shrugged dismissively, knowing my brother deserved honesty, but finding no need to scare him unnecessarily.

I did not fail to notice how the young man's gentle touch cooled the mark.

"You're a crappy liar."

I snickered, because I really should know better.

"How about we get your sasquatch ass off the floor now." I said, changing the subject while I set the cup on the counter and got a strong grip on my brother's good arm.

The younger man grunted as I pulled him up into a standing position and I couldn't help but notice how much weight the kid had lost. I don't imagine he ate very much while he was working to make me human again, and if history proves correct, the kid probably wasn't eating much now that he was searching for a way to remove the mark.

"You good?" I inquired after giving the kid a moment to find his balance.

"Yeah. I'm good." Sam assured me as I released my hold.

"Good. Now I want you to clock me one." I announced standing in front of my brother.

He let out a laugh, wincing as his stitches pulled, but laughing nonetheless.

"I'm serious man."

"Why is it you always want me to hit you after you hit me?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

I shrugged.

"You think it'll make me feel better."

"It'll make me feel better."

"Well it's not going to help me any." Sam smiled.

"Not even a little?" I asked in disbelief.

"If I hit you, would it make you feel better to hit me back?"

I shrugged, because no it probably wouldn't, but I wasn't about to tell this kid that.

"You sure you don't want to deck me?" I double checked.

Sam shook his head.

"It's not because you...because I might—

"I'm not afraid of you Dean."

And damn if he didn't sound so entirely sure as he stared at me with those stupid hazel eyes.

I nodded, not trusting my emotions.

I cleared my voice awkwardly.

"Why don't you go change your shirt?" I suggested, nodding towards the blood and whiskey stained garment.

"I'll clean up here and heat up the food." I continued.

"Sure." Sam agreed, the look in his gaze making my heart ache. Forgiveness, concern, love, and gratefulness pouring from his puppy eyes.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked away, because I didn't deserve it, not any of it.

"Dean." The call was accompanied with a light hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah." I said, looking in his direction, but avoiding any eye contact.

"It's going to be alright. You know? We'll fix it, like we always do."

The emotion became too much, the promise sounding so real, that I had to turn away.

"I know Sammy." My voice cracking on my brother's name, but thankfully he couldn't see the tears I felt building up in my eyes.

"Now got get changed so we can eat, I'm starving." I ordered gruffly.

"Whatever you say." Sam said, making his way out of the room.

"Jerk." He added right before he left the kitchen.

"Bitch." I laughed in surprise.

I heard Sam walking down the hall and used my temporary privacy to swipe at my eyes.

I began to clean up my mess, sweeping the glass up, freezing when I noticed blood on the floor; blood that had come from my little brother's face. It wasn't much, but it was enough...and it was my fault.

I had lost control.

I let that mark take control...again.

And I hurt Sam.

The person who mattered more to me than anything else.

My little brother.

My kid.

And what did he do? The little shit forgave me!

He trusted me to stitch him together right after I inflicted the damage.

He was concerned for me.

He forgave me.

Just like that.

I didn't deserve trust or concern, and I sure as hell didn't deserve forgiveness.

I didn't deserve a little brother like Sam.

I felt the mark burn, but I ignored it, because I wasn't paying it any mind, not today.

Today I am making damn sure that my little brother eats a good breakfast and then I am tucking him into bed like I did when he was just a little boy.

Today I am taking care of my kid brother.

And tomorrow we will hunker down and figure out how to get this bloody thing off my arm.

After that…well Sam and I will figure it out as we go, together.

All I know is that I am done hurting my brother.

I will die before I bring harm to Sammy again.

Because even though I am almost certain this kid will forgive me for anything, that doesn't make it okay.

Mark or no mark, demon or human, hurting Sam is never okay.

I will protect Sammy.

I will protect him from angels.

I will protect him from Demons.

I will protect him from the entire fucking world.

And I will protect him from myself.

No matter what.

Because Sammy is my little brother.

And it's my job to keep him safe.

And it's about time I start doing my fucking job.

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><p>Note: Was it rubbish? Or acceptable ipod story telling? Let me know! Please reviewcomment if you have a moment. Thanks for reading! - Sam


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